


Cake is Ace

by bafflinghaze



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Asexual Characters, Asexual Draco, Asexual Harry, Asexual References, Cake, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humour, M/M, Many cake, Pre-queer-platonic-relationship-slash, Truth or Dare, drabbly, lots of mentions of cake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 13:59:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4224360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bafflinghaze/pseuds/bafflinghaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As part of a dare, Harry and Draco get locked in a cupboard together. Harry swears that it isn’t what it looks like!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Harry and Draco get locked in a cupboard...and R-rated things do _not_ ensue. (There may be mild swearing, but I don’t think it’s bad enough to necessitate a Teen rating)
> 
> Beta'ed by [shllybkwrm](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shllybkwrm/pseuds/shllybkwrm) :)

‘Draco, you _have_ to play,’ Pansy said dramatically.

‘I _must_ decline,’ Draco shot back.

Regardless, her hand encircled his wrist, so Draco sighed and allowed her to lead him to the circle of other Eighth-years.

‘And, what’s the point of not having fun?’ Pansy pulled off a surprising well-formed smirk despite being disgustingly drunk.

‘I never wanted to come,’ Draco pointed out, but she ignored him, of course, and opted to push him down on the ground.

‘All right, you Slytherins gonna play, hey?’ Finnegan slurred loudly. ‘We’re gonna play Truth or Dare!’

‘Here, here!’ came the loud chorus.

Draco shot Pansy a glare, but she was chorusing with the rest of them. With an inward eyeroll, Draco swept his eyes over the rag-tag group of Eighth Years. Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and Lovegood. They all had the rosy cheeks and loud speech of the plebeian drunk, and Draco could scarcely believe that Pansy had _joined_ them.

‘Right, you go first, Dean!’

‘Hey, why me?’

Finnegan put on a pouty face. ‘Why not?’

Thomas rubbed his eyes. ‘Gah, dare then.’

‘Then I dare you to take off your shirt!’

Draco sighed as Thomas made a show of it and Finnegan practically slobbered all over Thomas’ chest.

The game droned on in a similar sexually-charged and utterly raucous manner. Draco _should_ have been firmer in not attending this ridiculous farce of a unity event. The Room of Requirement had been done up nicely, but everything else had been... _subpar_. He could be in the Slytherin commons, eating _cake_ —dark, rich, decadent chocolate cake, with a top layer of crunchy hazelnut, that—

‘Draco!’

Draco jerked out of his reverie. ‘Pardon?’ he said to Pansy.

She gave him a wicked look. ‘Truth or Dare?’

A quick glance told him that everyone around the circle was looking expectantly at him. He was uninterested in sexual activities, so he said, ‘Truth, then.’

‘Tell us who you fancy!’ Pansy said loudly.

Draco glared at her. ‘Not _this_ again. I _don’t_.’

‘Oh, don’t be a spoilsport, Malfoy!’ Potter shouted.

Draco glared at him, but it seemed that drunkenness provided a barrier against quivering fear. ‘I’m _not_.’

‘Dare, dare!’ Finnegan chanted.

Draco glared at him too, for what little that it did. ‘I _answered_ the stupid question! I do not fancy anyone. Is that too difficult for your little Gryffindor brain to comprehend?’

‘I say give him a dare!’ Weasley said.

Draco’s lip curled. ‘ _Fine_. Since clearly none of you care for the _truth_.’

Finnegan stood up, pointing an unsteady finger at Draco. ‘I dare _you_ to get into the cupboard.’

‘That’s utterly—’ Draco could not be bothered to finish, and just stood up. ‘Which cupboard?’

‘I ain’t done yet. Get in the cupboard over _there_ ’—and the Room of Requirement conveniently sprung one forth—‘with _Harry_!’

‘Me? In a fucking cupboard?’ Potter shook his shaggy head.

Draco winced at his poor choice of terms.

‘You ain’t scared of Malfoy, are you, Harry?’ Finnegan said, grinning.

Potter folded his arms. ‘Course not. What did I do to you? It’s _his_ dare!’

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘I do not _care_. I’ll forfeit—’

‘Not allowed,’ Finnegan cut in. ‘C’mon, Harry?’

Potter gave a gusty sigh. ‘Okay, okay. I’m not scared, got it?’ He glared at Draco.

‘I did not insinuate any such thing,’ Draco snapped. He did a sharp turn and entered the cramped space of the cupboard first.

Potter stumbled in after him, and the arse-named-Finnegan smirked and shut the door behind them.

Draco leaned back against the wall. Potter’s breathing was loud and fast in the darkness. Draco frowned. ‘Potter?’

‘It’s small in here.’ Potter’s tone held a slight whimper.

Draco flicked his wand and brought light.

Potter’s eyes immediately snapped open. ‘Oh.’ He bit his lip.

‘Forgot that you were a wizard?’ Draco said drily. He moved his wand around, just to see if Potter’s eyes would follow the light. They did, before snapping to Draco’s face with a glare.

‘I wasn’t _scared_ ,’ Potter said.

Draco lifted an eyebrow. ‘I never mentioned being _scared_ , Potter.’

Potter folded his arms. ‘What _ever_.’

Draco twirled his wand across his fingers idly. A little bored, Draco pushed his ear against the door of the cupboard.

The noise of the party was muffled. Ignoring Potter, he tapped the wood and cast an eavesdropping spell.

‘Do you think they’re making out?’ came Pansy’s voice.

Potter put a hand on his arm and shook him. ‘Oi, what’sit?’

Draco brushed off Potter’s hand and listened some more. ‘Debating which base we’ll get to.’ Draco shifted away from the door, scrunching his nose. ‘I can _not_ believe Pansy just bet on _anal sex_.’

Potter leaned in and whispered, ‘I don’t kiss boys.’

Draco winced from Potter’s stinking breath and leaned back. ‘Thank Merlin for small mercies,’ he said drily.

‘Tell you a secret,’ Potter said, putting a finger to his lips, ‘so, _shhh_.’

Draco arched an eyebrow.

Potter shook his head and tugged Draco’s hands. ‘Like this, _sshh_.’

‘Oh for— _fine_.’ Draco copied him, putting a finger to his mouth. ‘ _Sshh_. There.’

‘Yeah, yes.’ Potter nodded. ‘The secret is...’ Potter trailed off.

‘What?’ Draco snapped.

Potter gave him a reprimanding look. ‘Wait, sheesh, Malfoy. The secret is...is that I don’t like to kiss girls either.’

Draco blinked. ‘Well, isn’t that surprising. Wonder Boy and I have something in common.’

Potter frowned. ‘Who’s wonder boy?’

‘You, you daft git.’

Potter blinked. ‘Erm, right.’

Draco lifted his wand. ‘I’m quite sick of conversing with you in this state. How about a sobering charm?’

Potter had the presence of mind to cringe, for a sobering charm was never described as _nice_. He stopped talking, at least, and Draco returned to twirling his wand.

And thinking about cake. It was unavoidable, really. And thinking about his robes, which felt mucky from its exposure to drunk students. He thought he might get something new, in black, with a tad of purple.

His stomach clenched, and Draco yearned again for cake.

Potter nudged him. ‘Malfoy,’ he said slowly.

Draco inwardly rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, Potter?’

‘Do you think...’ Potter ruffled his hair.

‘Sobering charm?’ Draco said pointedly.

Potter cringed. ‘What were you thinking about?’

Draco tilted his head slightly. ‘If you must know, I was contemplating cake.’

Potter’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh! I like cakes.’

‘Yes, _well_ —’

‘I mean, er,’ Potter scratched the back of his neck. ‘I like baking cakes.’

Draco narrowed his eyes. ‘You... _bake_?’

‘Hmm, yes.’

Draco sniffed and tossed his hair. ‘Given your uncertainty, I highly doubt you’re any good at it at all.’

Red rose to Potter’s cheeks as he said indignantly, ‘I _am_ , you stupid prat!’

Draco arched an eyebrow. ‘I bet you’re too afraid to _prove_ it.’

‘Am _not_.’

‘Oh, really? Going to bake me a cake?’

‘I accept!’

Draco looked at him.

Potter nodded vigorously. ‘Chocolate. I know you like it!’

‘Right,’ Draco grudgingly admitted.

Potter tapped his lips, and pulled out his wand. He scrunched his eyes up, and spelled a shimmering image. ‘Something like this?’

It was an image of chocolate cake, with chocolate swirl icing and the hint of red glace berries—

Draco wished Potter wouldn’t tempt him with food, given that he was currently stuck in the cupboard. ‘It looks...acceptable.’

Potter gave him a challenging look. ‘I _can_ do it.’

‘Oh, and how would you go about baking a cake? Do you even—’

‘Quiet, Malfoy! Imma tell you—’

And to Draco’s utter amusement, drunk-Potter began to expound upon him the process of baking a cake.

***

The cupboard door finally opened with a loud creak. Harry staggered back, and Malfoy jumped away from him immediately.

‘Have _fun_?’ Parkinson drawled to Malfoy.

Malfoy tossed his hair, and gave Harry a smirk. ‘Surprisingly so.’ He turned back to Parkinson. ‘Now, if you’d excuse me, I’ll be leaving.’

‘ _Draco—_ ’ Parkinson tagged behind him as Malfoy headed towards the door.

Seamus bounded up to him. ‘So, how _far_ did you get?’ he leered.

Harry felt his mouth automatically grin back. ‘What?’

‘Did you push him again the door, and—’

‘It wasn’t like _that_!’ Harry spluttered.

Seamus wriggled his eyebrows. ‘Your cheeks are red, Mr Potter.’

Harry pressed his palms against his nonsensical cheeks. ‘It wasn’t like that! Cakes!’

‘Oh, was Malfoy _sweet_?’

Harry gave a laugh of pain. ‘Hell.’ Harry spotted Hermione’s hair, and moved towards her with relief. ‘Herm—Hermi!’

Hermione shook her head. ‘You’re so drunk. Want something to eat?’

‘Harry, we haven’t finished playing Truth or Dare yet!’ Seamus butted in.

Between Hermione and Seamus, Harry immediately choose Hermione. ‘Food, yes.’

‘All right, come on,’ Hermione gave him a dry smile.

Harry followed her to food, but his mind never stopped thinking about cake.


	2. Chapter 2

When Harry woke up the next morning, he groaned. He had a hangover—which he quickly remedied with the Hangover Potion Hermione had left on his bedside table. However, there was no such fix for the challenge he had gotten himself into.

Harry shook his head and stumbled out of bed.

‘Mate,’ Ron greeted, looking marginally better than how Harry felt. ‘Something wrong?’

‘Malfoy,’ Harry grimaced.

A look of queasiness came over Ron’s face. ‘What did you guys get _up_ to in the cupboard?’

Harry bit his lip. ‘I sort of promised I’d bake Malfoy a chocolate cake.’

‘That’s—er—romantic,’ Ron tried.

‘ _No_ , you don’t understand _anything_. It was a _challenge!_ He didn’t think I could bake a good chocolate cake. I’m going to prove him _wrong_.’

‘So, you guys _didn’t_ have sex?’

Harry gave Ron an incredulous look. ‘Why would we do that? We were talking about cake.’

Ron gave him a confused look. ‘Sure, mate, whatever you want.’

Harry stomped off to brush his teeth. And _then_ he was going to go down to the kitchens and make something so good Malfoy would _have_ to admit defeat.

*

‘ _Dry_?’ Harry spluttered.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, and took another delicate bite. ‘Indeed. A little dry.’

‘Well, if you don’t like it, then give it back.’

Malfoy turned a shoulder to him. ‘You wish. You’ve given it to me now. It is edible, but a little dry. Fetch me a glass of milk, will you?’

Harry grumbled under his breath about ungrateful prats, but he fetched Malfoy some milk.

*

‘Harry,’ Hermione said tentatively. ‘Is there something you’d like to tell me?’

Harry looked at her in confusion. ‘No?’

‘You’ve been with Malfoy rather often frequently.’

‘Oh, that.’ Harry waved his hand dismissively. ‘I’m just trying to bake him the perfect cake.’

‘And?’

‘Err, that’s it?’

‘Are you sure?’ Hermione looked worried. ‘It’s all right if you like kissing other boys—’

‘It’s not like that!’ Harry growled with frustration. ‘I bake cakes. He eats them. I don’t want to kiss other guys! And before you ask it, no, I don’t like kissing girls either.’

Hermione blinked. ‘Oh. Are you asexual?’

Harry looked at her.

‘It means you aren’t sexually attracted to anyone,’ she added,

‘Right.’ Harry grinned at her, feeling a relief that there was a _word_ for himself.

Hermione smiled back and returned to her work.

Harry returned to _his_ work—thinking about cake...

*

‘ _Too_ sweet?’ Harry spluttered.

‘The chocolate and the preserves together are a tad overpowering,’ Malfoy said idly, even as his spoon pressed into the cake for another bite. ‘Fetch me a cup of tea, will you?’

‘Sure, fine, okay!’ Harry flung his hands into the air.

‘Calm down,’ Malfoy said with a teasing tone. ‘Perhaps _you_ need to have some cake. After you get me that tea, of course.’

‘Well, I bet you can’t bake to save your life!’

Malfoy sniffed. ‘I do not bake. _You_ are the baker. I am the cake connoisseur. A cup of tea?’

‘I’m _getting it!_ ’

*

‘Harry, where have you been?’ Ginny asked.

Harry looked up from the tome of recipes. ‘Sorry, been busy. I’m trying to bake the _perfect_ cake.’

‘Rumour has it that you’ve been courting Malfoy with cakes.’

Harry frowned. ‘There has been no courting involved. Just me baking cakes and Malfoy insulting me.’

Ginny frowned back. ‘And you...like that?’

‘There’s nothing else to it,’ Harry said exasperatedly. ‘Malfoy thinks I can’t bake the perfect cake. But I _can_ , I know I can.’

Ginny edged away. ‘I’ll leave you to it then.’

‘Okay.’ Harry turned back to his book.

*

‘Well, how is it?’ Harry’s eyes flickered from the cake—just moist, not too sweet, not too soft, but with a layer with just the right crunchiness as to not be boring; not too much of it, not too little; presented on a white, fashionable square plate with fancy chocolate drizzle.

When Draco didn’t answer, he looked at him instead. Draco’s eyes were half closed, and Harry could see a hint of tongue, swirling around the spoon. Draco gave a moan.

Harry felt anticipation curling in his stomach. ‘Well?’

Draco’s eyes opened. ‘It. Is...’

‘Is _what?_ ’

Draco gave him a reprimanding look. ‘Patience, neanderthal. I must have another taste first.’

Harry tugged at his hair and waited torturously as Draco slipped another spoonful of cake into his mouth.

Draco gave another little moan. ‘It’s...good,’ he finally said.

‘ _Just_ good?’ Harry said sceptically. ‘Your actions say otherwise.’

There was a slight flush on Draco’s cheeks. ‘Favourable. Pleasing.’

‘Is that _all_?’ Harry insisted. ‘Maybe I should take it back.’

‘Excellent. Amazing. Wonderful. _Perfect_.’ Draco sniffed. ‘Do you want me to continue?’

Harry broke out into a grin. ‘I did it! I made the perfect cake!’ He jumped up and twirled around and pointed his finger at Draco’s face. ‘I made the perfect cake! You admitted it!’

Draco tossed his hair. ‘Well, all you can _do_ is bake cakes, after all.’

Harry narrowed his eyes. ‘What are you insinuating?’

Draco shrugged. ‘I fancy some apple crumble. But I know you can’t make it, so don’t worry your golden head about it.’

‘I bet I can,’ Harry said.

‘Can what?’

‘Bake the perfect apple crumble, _obviously_.’

Draco shrugged, but Harry could tell that he didn’t believe him.

‘I’ll make you eat your words!’

Draco smirked. ‘Before you rush off, perhaps you’d like to have some cake?’

‘I baked it, so why are _you_ offering?’ Harry grumbled, but he sat down again and gave himself a slice of cake.

And gave his own little moan at the taste—because it was perfect, after all.

*

‘You like eating green apples, don’t you?’ Harry said.

Draco blinked. ‘Well, yes, but what does that have to do—’

Harry nodded. ‘And how do you feel about raisins?’

‘Best consumed in reasonable amounts,’ Draco replied slowly.

‘And how much do you like cinnamon?’

Draco looked at him as though he was barmy. ‘What is this all about?’

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘I’m going to make the perfect apple crumble, you prat.’

Draco gave a slow smirk. ‘Very well.’

Harry pointed his finger at Draco. ‘You just wait, Malfoy!’

‘I’m quivering with anticipation.’

Harry just rolled his eyes again and stomped off.

  


***

  


And after Harry achieved the perfect apple crumble, Harry went on to make the perfect chocolate fudge, and then the perfect chocolate-chip cookies. Draco accused Harry of trying to sabotage his diet, and they started playing Seeker matches together.

And then, on the last day of Eighth Year, Draco bet he couldn’t make boring sponge cake interesting, and Harry couldn’t let take that lying down, could he?

  


(It goes on, and after a couple of years of people not understanding how their relationship worked, Draco and Harry decided to just call it ‘dating’ and got back to more important matters—bickering over cakes.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!
> 
> I hope everyone found this little asexual!Drarry fun :) and a break from zsexual!Drarry. (I certainly had fun writing it!)


End file.
